


Point Of Entry

by CaptainSummerDay



Series: Wilderness [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSummerDay/pseuds/CaptainSummerDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months of searching the team finally has the location of Raina's base of operations. Skye just needs to find a way in so she can make a connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point Of Entry

**Author's Note:**

> I debated about the rating but eventually felt that events fell on this side of the Mature/Explicit divide. Sequel to Truth Serum and part of the Wilderness AU so I'm going to assume you all know what you're getting yourselves into.
> 
> Unlike Skye.

“That’s it? Looks more like a bubble than a base to me.”

Skye glances over at Trip, the specialist’s arms folded as he stares at the satellite image on the screen. She can see what he means, although personally she thinks it’s more like a giant pimple waiting to be popped. Which was exactly what they were about to do.

Coulson smiles as though he can read her mind from the head of the table before turning his attention back to the monitors.

“It’s some sort of electrically generated cloaking field. Whatever they have in there is interfering with everything that requires a signal. Phones, radios, you name it. The only way we can know what’s going on in there is by tapping into a hard line.”

Trip raises his eyebrows and lets out a low whistle as he looks back at the screen.

“So, basically, we’ve got to launch an assault on the headquarters of evil and we’re doing it blind.”

May shifts.

“We’re out of options. Whatever method Raina’s using to co-ordinate her attacks is destroyed by the time we manage to capture one of her soldiers.”

Coulson nods.

“Skye, you need to determine your preferred point of entry. The rest of us will provide a distraction to cover you.”

Skye looks at the map and swallows. She can do this. It’s not that different from hacking really. Identity a weak point and exploit it to gain access. Her eyes pause on an overgrown area, pipelines showing on the subterranean scans.

“There. That’s where I’ll get it in.”

Coulson shares a glance with May who nods as she moves away.

“Wheels up in five.”

She can do this, Skye tell herself. In and out.

Simple.

 

***

 

Grant stares up at the ceiling hatch as he waits. He’s been waiting since the perimeter alarm had first sounded. Since the order to engage was issued.

In a way, he’s been waiting ever since that day he woke in an interrogation room.

He can still feel her when he closes his eyes. More than a memory, her scent and warmth lingers just out of reach. Almost close enough to touch, but still just a dream when he opens his eyes with fingers outstretched to find nothing there.

He can hear the faint drag and thump from the ventilation shaft. He draws his weapon, pulls back the slide of the glock, chambers a round and waits. The noise from above grows steadily in volume.

Grant knows he won’t have to wait much longer.

Part of him still hopes that it’ll be Trip or May who drops through the opening. Maybe even Coulson who ends up in his firing line.

A larger part of him knows he won’t be that lucky.

He raises his gun as the hatch swings open, tracks the movement of the small figure that drops down to the floor in front of him. He can see her shoulders stiffen as he steps forward. She doesn’t need to turn round to know who’s stood behind her. The lack of a bullet gives it away.

Grant holds his aim anyway. Training is training.

“You shouldn’t be here, Skye.”

She turns then, doesn’t even glance at the barrel as narrowed eyes lock with his.

“Ward. Still playing the obedient little lapdog I see.”

The taunt shouldn’t affect him, but he can feel his grip tighten.

He takes another step forward. Her eyebrow rises in response.

“You.”

A step.

“Shouldn’t.”

Another.

“Be here.”

He doesn’t flinch at the coldness in her eyes. His gun never waivers as she cocks her head and lets out a dismissive laugh.

“We both know you’re not going to shoot me, Ward. You prefer someone else to pull the trigger.”

The memory of that basement hits so hard that for a moment, Grant can almost feel the bullets enter his gut. Hear the echo of the shots reverberate round the room. Feel the heat then the cold spreading out inside.

It takes him a moment before he realises he can still hear the crack and pop of automatic fire. The coldness in his gut solidifies and tenses.

Grant can see from the flicker that crosses Skye’s face that she hears it too. A crack in her walls. And he is done, so fucking done with this game they always seem to play. It’s no longer about barbs but bullets.

In one swift motion he holsters the glock and grabs her, pinning her against him before she has a chance to react. Her gasp of surprise is muffled against his chest as he reaches behind her to pull out the icer she has tucked into her waistband.

“We’re getting you out of here. Right now.”

Her protests are swallowed by the Kevlar as he half pulls; half drags her towards the door, pausing to listen for footsteps in the corridor outside. She uses the moment to push back, turning to face him as his grip on her arm tightens in response.

“You don’t get to give me orders anymore, Ward. You’re not my SO. You’re playing for the other team, remember? The same team that’s out there right now trying to kill my team.”

“That’s not what they’re doing.”

Grant tugs on Skye’s arm, drawing her closer as he cracks open the door and scans the corridor.

Clear.

He turns back in time for the punch Skye throws to make contact. The impact dazes him for a moment but he doesn’t let go.

“I’m not going to let you stop me, Ward.”

He grabs her wrist as she pulls back to swing again. Grits out through an aching jaw, “It’s a trap, Skye. One big set-up to get to you.”

He can feel her body buckle as the tension suddenly drains, so he’s left holding her up instead of holding her back.

“You’re lying...”

“Skye-“

“You’re lying. Again. This is just another one of your tricks, you had no way of knowing that-“

“That when Shield found the base of Raina’s operations but couldn’t find any other way of seeing inside, they’d send you? Have May and Trip, maybe even Coulson, engage the guards to allow you access to find a hard line? I was _waiting_ for you Skye.”

It hurts to look at her as his words sink in. Grant scans the corridor again as he hears her breathe out behind him.

“So...what? You’re just going to hand me over to Raina, now?”

Clear. The staccato bursts of gunfire are still in the distance. He glances over his shoulder.

“Right now, it’s not Raina you need to be worried about.”

 

***

 

Skye can’t focus on anything but the man in front of her as he pulls her down concrete corridors. There’s a warmth, a tremor that’s spreading through her from their connected hands. He’s a killer, a traitor, the enemy but the words feel empty. She can’t make them stick as they race through her mind. All she can feel is his hand in hers, and it feels...

Safe.

Her emotions seem to be spinning out of control. There’s a churning deep inside her, _why does her jaw hurt? Is she clenching it that hard?_ She feels like she’s being pulled in a hundred different directions and she’s scared, confused, angry but that link between them, where skin touches skin, is the only thing keeping her together. A safety line that she’s left holding onto as tight as she can.

Maybe that’s why she feels the change a second before Ward stops running. He’s frozen, alert and that’s when Skye can hear it. Or rather, not hear it. The background rhythm of gunfire falling silent.

Something like dread starts to unfurl in her stomach and she’s moving instinctively forwards as Ward reaches back and pulls her to him.

“We’re out of time. They know you’re not out front.”

Skye doesn’t know why her fingers are curling round the edge of his Kevlar vest but she couldn’t let go even if she wanted to. He looks at her then and she knows from the look in his eyes that however bad she thinks the situation is; the reality is much worse.

But she can’t feel the fear anymore. Not when she’s holding on so closely. There’s a storm raging around her, but here, with him, it fails to touch her.

“What’s your plan for extraction?”

Skye can hear the words, see the movement of his lips but she can’t seem to process them. There’s a dull roar in her head that seems to be growing louder and the only way she can stop the feeling of falling into nothing is to hold on tighter. She can feel the breath as it pulls itself out of her lungs, the chest beneath her fingers rising and falling in time with her own.

The roar only grows as Ward grabs her arms. The urgency in his voice seems to cut right through her.

“Skye! Focus. Extraction.”

“I’m to send out a beacon. Once I get clear.”

She has to force the words out, but Ward seems to understand her as he lets go and grabs her hand again before they start running again.

She feels like she’s falling.

Distantly she’s aware of marching footsteps, of the way Ward pulls her into a corner, covering her body with his as the soldiers pass by, _she wants to stay there_ , and then they’re running again, twisting, turning until he’s pulling her onto the back of a motorcycle, sliding her arms round his waist as he kick starts the engine.

She presses in tighter, buries her nose in the depression between his spine and shoulder blade. She can feel him tense beneath her, the contraction of his muscles under her splayed fingers. She doesn’t care. He’s a rope in the darkness and she’s pulling herself up into the light.

She’s lost all concept of time. Of anything that isn’t the heartbeat and breath echoing through her. It’s night by the time Ward pulls to a stop in the forecourt of a dingy roadside motel. She feels a sudden blast of panic ripping through her as he pulls away and steps off the bike, but then he has her tucked in against his side as he walks them into reception, picks up keys and then they’re inside a musty smelling room, the outside world safely shut away behind deadbolts and chains. The pressure in her mind finally seems to be easing as Ward moves her to the bed furthest from the door. He sits her down on the brown and orange cover as he gently unlocks her fingers from their death grip round his arms.

Exhaustion sweeps through her in a wave. She’s aware of nodding dimly as Ward asks if she’s ok, that he’ll take a shower while she contacts the team, use the sound of the water to give her some privacy.

She can still feel a dull throbbing in her jaw.

He lets go and moves away. Skye can hear the water running on the other side of the thin plywood wall.

She feels so drained and empty.

She can’t fight the pull as her eyelids close and her body collapses backwards.

 

***

 

Grant swipes a hand over his face, the hot water doing little to alleviate the tension that has been plaguing him since the base. He can still feel the ache from where Skye punched him radiating through his jaw. The sensation of unwanted otherness preying in the back of his mind.

The fear that he’s still too weak to be anything but worthless.

There was a moment, when the gunfire outside the base had stopped and he felt the pressure build inside his head when he thought he’d lost. Cracked enough to let _him_ in. Become one of Raina’s puppets, staring mindlessly into space while she cooed and petted and revelled in her army of toy soldiers.

But then he’d glanced down to see Skye curling herself into him and that was all he could focus on. The need to get her clear, as far away as he could from the thing that claimed to be her father. To not fail her a second time. Not again.

It had cut through the static, allowed him to ignore the growing tension on the edges of his conscious, shut out everything that wasn’t Skye or Safety.

_He can still feel the warmth that rushed through him, spreading out from where he held her hand in his._

He leans forward, spreading his hands out against the stained, cold tiles as the hot water continues to pound down on his skin.

He feels drained, empty, a foreign sensation tickling at the back of his mind.

He can feel his breathing slow, his heartbeat return to normal as the last tinges of adrenaline work their way out of his system.

He can do this.

He can keep her safe until the team arrives. Keep it locked down until he completes his mission.

Grant loses track of how long he stands there, fingers flexing as he fights to shake the memories. There’s a pained gurgle from the showerhead above him and then with a splutter the warmth is gone, lost in the icy water that rains down on him.

He twists off the shower and steps out, the sudden cold what he needed to wake from his trance. The mirror is too steamed up for Grant to see his reflection but he doesn’t bother to wipe it clean. He doesn’t want to see the memory of his failures staring back at him, etched for the world to see on his skin.

Not while he still has to hold it together.

_It feels like fingers are stroking the base of his skull._

He pulls his clothes back on roughly, runs a hand through his hair before he reaches for the door knob. Skye had seemed so lost, and there was a dark part of him that had welcomed the way she had clung to him. The way she seemed to need him, the way he wanted her to need him.

He freezes, his hand curled round the cold metal as he fights to keep his breathing steady. He has to let it go. It was the situation, nothing more.

He was just the lesser evil.

She’s sitting up on the bed when he enters the room. The covers beneath her slightly mussed as though she had been sleeping. He pushes back on a tinge of guilt at the thought of waking her as she blinks owlishly up at him. Focuses instead on crossing the room and flicking the edge of the blinds, scanning the lot outside for any change in the vehicles parked on the tarmac.

“What did you do to me?”

He can’t stop the flinch as the accusation hangs heavy in the room between them.

Two fords, a beat-up Chevy and the motorcycle. No movement.

He lets the cheap plastic fall back in place as he fights against the ugly swirling sensation in his gut. Swallows back the nausea as he turns to see the tight line of her mouth. The bitterness in her look. He’s spent so long with Raina he’d forgotten what it felt like to be the monster.

He can see she’s waiting for a response. An answer. And he suddenly knows there’s nothing he can say that she would believe. Nothing he can do to make her trust him. He can feel the cold stab of anger start to unfurl deep inside. Clenches his jaw to hold back words he doesn’t want to say despite the reawakened pain it causes.

“Did you drug me? What is this? Payback for Dublin?”

It hurts.

He fights to keep his breathing steady as he crosses to the desk, pulls out the chair and straddles it so he’s facing her. Her eyes follow every movement.

“You could just say thank you. Might be easier.”

Grant can see her eyes widen in disbelief as she breathes out her shock.

“Thank you? You’ve all but kidnapped me and you expect me to be grateful? God. Just how twisted are you, Ward?”

He’s battling against a rising tide of anger as he cocks his head and forces a brief smile.

“I saved you.”

It comes out as a grimace. There’s a thrumming building inside him that makes it hard to think. He needs to walk away but he can’t seem to tear his gaze from her face.

“Oh. Right. You saved me. From what? Raina?”

“Not Raina. It’s not Raina you need protecting from.”

He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, the creak of the wooden backed chair as his fingers curl and tighten. He needs to focus. He can’t let himself think of _him_. Can’t risk the chance that _he’s_ somehow already inside his head, waiting for a stray thought to draw _him_ in like a homing beacon.

He focuses on Skye. On her hate, her anger.

Hopes that her barely concealed rage will drown out the pounding in his head.

 

***

 

Skye can barely process the different emotions coursing through her as she stares at the man sat across from her. How can he sit there looking so calm when she’s struggling to hear herself think over the roar of her blood in her head?

Her fingers curl in the bed sheets as she tries to get a response.

“So, what? You’re switching teams again? Trying to make things right by stabbing everyone in the back?”

“No.”

“This your way of trying to rejoin S.H.I.E.L.D?”

He’s on his feet, chair flung across the room before she can blink. She’s dimly aware of the sound of it shattering as he stalks towards her. She can’t move, can’t look away as he spits out his response.

“S.H.I.E.L.D? S.H.I.E.L.D was a lie. S.H.I.E.L.D was protocols and clearance levels. Asset management and statistical evaluations. Leaving an agent for dead because, odds were, he wasn’t coming back. Nothing more than a series of carefully run simulations to determine the outcome that would be of most benefit. To them. Because the rest of us were nothing more than tools to be discarded when we stopped getting the job done.”

She’s rising to meet him before he reaches her, the turmoil behind his eyes impossible to miss as he stands a finger length away from her.

“Like you discarded Fitz and Simmons? Sealing them in a pod and letting them sink to the bottom of the ocean?”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it, the pod, them, you...”

There’s a thrumming building inside her, causing her limbs to tremble with every word he says, like before, in the base only stronger. She can feel every ragged breath he takes as if it’s her own. It’s getting hard to think. She needs...

Skye reaches out to touch the scar on his cheek. He grabs her wrist before she makes contact, alarm flashing behind his eyes.

“Skye...”

There’s a pull inside her. She closes the gap between them. She can hear the edge of panic in his voice.

“What are you doing?”

Her skin feels like it’s on fire within his grasp. It’s not enough.

She stretches out her fingers, the tips brushing against his cheek with the lightest of touches. He flinches like it burned him, his grip tightening as she can see him try to pull up his walls. Skye doesn’t know why, but she can’t let him.

She raises herself up, sliding her free hand round the back of his neck to pull him closer.

It’s still not enough. She’s close enough to see the cracks and it’s not enough.

“This isn’t forgiveness.”

And then she’s destroying that last piece of distance between them, covering his mouth with her own, holding on so tightly that he can’t pull away. There’s a pause, a moment when he seems frozen against her, then his arms are around her, one hand splayed against her lower back, holding her body flush against his while the other slides through her hair to cradle the back of her skull.

It’s not a kiss. There’s nothing gentle about the way he sweeps inside her mouth when her lips part. It’s too raw, too bruised, too broken and it’s still not enough. She sucks on his lower lip, catching it with her teeth as she surges up and wraps her legs around his hips. She can feel the hammering of his heart against her ribcage. The way her own seems to pulse in an answering rhythm as he spins them, crashing against the wall as he presses even closer. He tears away from the kiss, mouthing a path down the line of her neck, fingers twisting through her hair as her head rolls back and she fights to breathe. Skye feels like she’s splitting open, every brush of his lips and tongue tearing away another piece of her and it’s still not enough.

A ragged moan escapes as she reaches to grab his head and force his mouth back to her, her body grinding down against him as she tries to relieve the pressure. There’s a growing need inside her, sparking out across her skin and she needs more contact. Her hands slide down his back to the bottom of his shirt and she’s tugging, pulling, ripping at it. She has to feel him, the cotton an unwanted barrier to the hard muscles underneath. He draws back just long enough for her to succeed in her mission. The T-shirt quickly discarded as he moves back in, his hips holding her up as his fingers return the favour. Her own are fumbling at his waistband. A twist and she’s snapped free the button, hands sliding down the curve of his spine as she pushes the offending material away.

It’s still not enough.

Closer.

She tugs at her jeans as he rocks against her, movements matching the laboured drag of his breath as he sweeps circles up and down her sides, whimpering in frustration as she fails to pull herself free. He’s there with her almost instantly, one arm holding her up as he takes over, growling against the crook of her neck in a way that sends shockwaves radiating out against her skin. She wraps her legs tighter, rolls her hips so she’s pressing against the length of him and it’s still not enough, not enough to drown out the aching need that’s spreading out from her core.

She can feel him. So close.

Not close enough.

She’s breathing his breath, skin moving against his skin, hands roaming the planes of his body and it’s not enough, she feels like a chasm is fracturing open inside of her and she needs, she needs...

He thrusts up and Skye can’t hold back the cry of relief that explodes from her lips, sparks crashing through her as finally, finally she stops falling. She stays there, feeling every gentle brush of fingers against her skin, the tingle where his ragged breath drags against her.

The word slips out.

“Please.”

And his hands are moving down her arms, unhooking them from round his back as he draws them up above her head, pins them above her head as he slowly starts to build a rhythm against her, inside her, through her. She rolls her hips, grips tighter with her thighs as she tries to meet his thrusts, head flung back and back arched as she chases the connection.

She can feel him with every part of her. Feel something building between them and she’s almost there, so nearly there as he drags one hand down her side and slides it across. Fingers outstretched as he reaches...

Skye is dimly aware of hearing his cry as her eyes close and she shatters.

When she opens her eyes again she’s surrounded by darkness, the only light seems to be coming from something in the ground beneath her. It looks like sand, the dark volcanic grey that had covered the beach in Maui, only cool to the touch. There’s a breeze, a thrumming that surrounds her and she gradually becomes aware of how familiar it seems.

The whole place is cold and empty yet Skye feels safe.

Protected.

It feels like...

“Ward?”

Suddenly she’s back in the motel room, watching as Ward pulls away from her, something raw and broken on his face.

She swallows thickly, the compulsion and desperate need that had been filling her mind gone.

She feels cold.

Skye turns away to grab at her clothes, hastily pulling them on as she can’t bring herself to look at him.

“This can never happen again.”

She’s pulling out the beacon, flicking the switch to signal for pick-up as she hears his response.

“It won’t”

Skye feels strangely numb as she gathers the last of her things, avoiding the gaze that follows her across the room as she opens the door and steps out into the night.

She can still feel him inside her, just beneath her skin.


End file.
